Fighting to Forget
by glb-03
Summary: Sequel to "The Mentors." Four months after the events of the Thirtieth Hunger Games, life is still going on for the Victors. Some are trying to embrace the changes they made during the Games, while others are just fighting to forget.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, to those of you who just randomly decided to read this, I'm sorry to say it is a sequel. You might be a bit confused if you don't read the other one first, which is "The Mentors." **

**Go forth and read it! And to those who have read the first one . . . well, here's the sequel!**

**Fighting to Forget**

**_Chapter One_  
**

**_October_  
**

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

The baby's cries wake me every morning at 4 o'clock, it never fails. Being a single parent is the second most challenging thing I've ever been through, but it's also the most rewarding. Because on those days when I don't want to get out of bed, I do, for my darling daughter. She's four months old and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm sure she got it from her mother.

Diana. I close my eyes tightly. I wish I had been there to hold her hand as she . . . died. But I wasn't. That's another thing the Capitol has taken away from me. The doctor said if we would have had children a few years ago, then Diana most likely wouldn't have died. I wish sometimes that she had gotten pregnant earlier, but I'm okay with it. If she would have gotten pregnant then it wouldn't be Emerald that was my child.

I cling to my little girl and slowly the crying stops. "You hungry, Emmy?" My baby smiles a toothless grin. The good part about all this is that Connie and I are talking again. I didn't realize it, but I missed her so much.

I walk with Emerald in my arms into the kitchen and prepare a bottle of milk. Emerald drinks hungrily when I give it to her and I stare down into her beautiful brown eyes. The ones she got from her mother . . . I shake my head to clear away the sadness, but it doesn't help.

Soon, Emmy is sleeping again and I go to put her back in her crib. I lay down on my bed and try to sleep but the grief keeps me awake. Diana was so beautiful and sweet. I was such a dick to her. How could I do that to my first and only love?

I feel tears running down my face and wipe them away. I hear a knock from downstairs and rush to the door, hoping they won't ring the doorbell and wake Emerald.

I open the door to find my mom and dad standing there looking frazzled. "Dex!"

"Mom? Dad?" I ask as Mom pulls me into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you and Emmy!" she says with a grin. "Is that so wrong?" Mom barely ever comes to see me, and she never wants to see Emmy. I sometimes find it weird but I've brushed it off. I don't think Dad has ever even seen Emerald.

I give her a suspicious look. "It's 4 o'lock in the morning, Mom." I look to my father for answers and he frowns grimly. I notice a black smudge on Mom's chin. "You have something. Right there." I point it out.

She wipes and then looks at what came off in horror. I stare at her, perplexed. "What is it?"

Her face pales. "Dexter . . ." She glances at my father once more and then back at me. "Our house burned down."

"What?" I exclaim. "Are you okay? What about Fuze? He's okay, right?" Fuze is my younger brother by sixteen years . . . I'd like to say _he_ was the accident, but I was.

Dad grimaces. "_We're_ fine. _Fuze_ is fine. He's looking for salvageable items at the moment, but he should be here soon." They need to stay here, I suddenly realize. I have four other rooms in the house, so there's enough room for them to stay here for the rest of their lives and Emmy to still have her own room.

"You have to stay here," I say. "I have room. A room for you two and another for Fuze. It's perfect."

My mother gives Dad a unhappy look and he gets an uncomfortable look on his face. He says, "Diana has only been gone for a few months . . . we don't want to intrude on your mourning."

I give him an aghast look. "Someone here is exactly what I need!"

He looks down, trying to find a way to fight with my logic. He sighs. "We won't stay here."

"But _why_?"

He is silent for a long time. "My religion says that if a baby kills its mother and lives, it is a demon come to destroy everyone around its lives. I won't live with that thing."

I'm confused for a second. What is he talking about? It suddenly sinks in. He's talking about Emmy._ Thing_? He called his granddaughter a _thing. _"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

My mother gasps and my father gets a cold look on his face. "What did you just say to me?"

"I asked _what the fuck is wrong with you_?" I yell. "How can you say something like that about Emmy? What has she ever done to you, you piece of shit?"

"She hasn't done anything to me _yet_." My father says coldly. "But she will, if not disposed of."

"Disposed of?" I let the question trail off. Does he mean..? No, he couldn't. Is he really suggesting that I _kill_ my daughter? I punch him before my brain can tell myself I shouldn't. He falls to the ground and I look at him in shock. My mother comes at me at hits me in the chest with flat hands, effectively pushing me away.

"Get back in your house!" she hisses. "Go back to the _demon_!"

I stare at her in shock and slowly back away, until I'm able to slam the door in her face. I turn around, my back facing to the door, and slowly slide to the ground.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

"Clubb?" her voice asks on the other end of the phone. "Can you please come over?"

I sigh. "But . . ." I've been over three times already this week. What can be happening that is so urgent? Wait a second . . . I sometimes forget what happens behind closed doors at her house. "Sure. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Thank you." She hangs up. I stare at the phone and then slam in back onto the receiver, effectively breaking it. Oh well. I'll just put it on my shopping list.

I rub my temples. I can't believe all the changes in my life. First, I have sex with Hazel. Big oops, right there. Then both my tributes died and that stupid bitch from Eleven won. When I got home I kicked out Durian, which she threw a record-winning fit over. My finger is still a little crooked to prove it. And Aurelia begged me to befriend her father so I could "visit" at opportune moments. And I, of course, agreed.

So I grab my shoes, pull them on, and trudge out of the house. It's around seven in the evening and I probably shouldn't be calling at this hour, but Aurelia asked, so how could I say no?

It's hot, which isn't unusual, as it's mid-July. It's been four months since the Games came to a close. I walk though the tall green grass. The length is bothering me. Maybe I should I hire someone to cut it..? I wonder who I would ask since it's a problem all over Victor's Village. Maybe Aurelia's dad? It's the kind of job that would keep someone at work all day long. And that person would be too tired to do much else than sleep at night. It's an idea at the least.

I find myself at their house and knock. Ahala answers the door after a few second of waiting. Her eyebrows rise. "Mr. Paige? We weren't expecting you."

"I just thought I'd pay a visit." I smile. "I'm sorry it is so late, I've been busy ever since I decided to start working at the training center. I just got off." Big lie, right there. I got off hours ago. Hopefully she didn't stop by.

She grins. "It's quite alright, Clubb. We'd never turn away a friend who works so hard with the youth of District Two." I hate some of the shit she spouts. The youth of District Two? I suppress the urge to snort. She finally lets me in and I make my way to the living room.

Rex is sitting on the couch. I easily keep the snarl off my face, from lots of practice, but I still want to kill him for the things he does. "Clubb? How nice of you to come over!"

"Yeah," I grunt. Aurelia sticks her head in the living room and smiles at me before coming to sit down, as far away as possible from her father. If I look at her closely, it looks as if she has the beginnings of a black eye. I grimace, and quickly contort it back into a grin. All I want to do is punch her father's lights out and make sure this never happens again, but I can't.

"So what is it you want to talk about, Clubb?" Rex asks.

"I wanted your thoughts on who you think should volunteer this year." I grin. "I'm not really sure who I'll vote for. They're all so good." Not really. They're all worse than Anneliese and Zeke and we all know what happened to _them_.

"I haven't really poked my head in the training center this year," he remarks. "It reminds me too much of Zeke." I know he's full of shit. He never really loved any of his children.

Aurelia opens her mouth- probably to tell him off- but closes it seconds later after Rex gives her a death glare. She finally says, "It's a good thing I don't train, right _Dad_?" She puts emphasis on dad, as if mocking the fact anyone would ever see him as a father figure.

If her dad had superpowers, her skin would probably peel off, from the way he's glaring at her. "That's right. I couldn't possibly imagine you ever making a good fighter. You're too weak."

She glares, but I can see realization dawning that she shouldn't have said anything to begin with. She quickly tries to make up for her mistake. "You're right. I don't know how I ever became this weak, since you're so strong." I can tell she is hating everything that she's forced to say. Rex's face says he's not buying one word.

"Well, I know it's getting late. All I wanted to do was ask your opinion, Rex. So I'm going to go. I'll stop by again soon."

I get up slowly and Aurelia quickly stands. "I'll show you out, Mr. Paige." She follows me out and shuts the door behind us. We now stand on her front porch.

I turn to her, angrily. "You really have to stop doing that."

She looks frustrated. "He makes me _so_ mad."

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "I know he does, but you know what will happen when you go back inside. If you just stopped talking back, then he would have no reason-."

Her glare stops me. "If I didn't say anything, he would have won! I can't stop."

I look at the ground. "I understand what you're-."

"No!" she hisses. "You _don't_ understand. I know you're trying to help, and you are. _Really_. But a few bruises and black eyes isn't going to break me." She gives me a half scared, half defiant look.

"I know that," I whisper softly. "But I'm scared of what's going to happen when _he_ figures that out. Can you really deal with a broken arm? Or a leg? Let's say he kicks you so hard, you start bleeding_ inside of you_. What are you going to do then? You can't _die_."

She gives me a sad look and sighs. "When that happens, we can talk about it. But when I go back inside, all he's going to do is punch me. And I can deal with that." She says goodbye and turns to go back inside. I watch her leave in dread. I slowly walk back to my own house and climb into bed right when I get home.

I don't know how to stop it. There has to be a way, though. I wonder about it for almost an hour and then fall asleep. My dreams are dark and frightening.

When I wake in the morning, I finally realize there's almost _nothing_ I can do for her.

* * *

_Locust Achene (D11)_

I look at the girl I used to know. Her blonde hair is wild around her too pale face. She grimaces at me as I pull the cover off of her. "Nope. Not happening. No, no, _no_."

"C'mon, Laurel. All I'm asking is that you come to the market with me. _Please_?" I beg. She hasn't been out of bed in a week. Aurora and I have been keeping her alive, for the most part. Aurora doesn't like doing it and complains about it, but what are we supposed to do? Let her starve? We can't let that happen, we're all she has left.

She glares at me. "I am _not_ going."

"Yes, you are." I glare back. A little tough love never hurt anybody, right? "Do _not_ make me get the water bucket."

Her eyes widen but go back to normal seconds later. "I _dare_ you."

I don't have time to go get a bucket of water, so I just begin to pull her out of bed. She grabs hold of the headboard, and kicks me in the head. I usually don't take very kindly to getting kicked in the head, but I let it slide just this once. I finally get her feet to touch the floor.

"See, isn't it nice to be out of bed?" I say through gritted teeth, while I restrain her from punching me. She gives me a nasty scratch to my left cheek. I haul her down the stairs very slowly.

"Lotus, I am going to _kill_ your ass," she hisses.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making threats, sweetheart," I mock.

"Shut the hell up."

After I get her out of the door she calms down. She must not want the townspeople to think she's a crazy person. I don't have the heart to tell her that they made up their minds about her four months ago.

I point up to the sky with a grin. "See that? That's what we call the sun."

She rolls her eyes, reminding me of the old her, and then she glares, which effectively ruins the moment. "I hate you."

"Noted," I reply. "Remember when I used to get you an apple every time you hit the bulls eye? You used to love apples."

"Don't bring that up. I really want to forget all about anything to do with _you_."

"I know for a fact you used to like me." I remember almost every day perfectly.

She glares. "_Never_." I recall that she, in fact, didn't like me to begin with. I remember the first day she came to train.

I was eighteen- nineteen in two months as I reminded everyone that asked- when her father approached me one day about training her. He assured me that it was just a precaution and I accepted. It was very hot, some might say sweltering. Her father walked her to my house and told her to play nice, which I rolled my eyes at. What could an eleven-year old do? Once Jay Farley was out of eye-sight she berated me for agreeing to this, complaining that I was an idiot. I stared at her in shock and she gave me the "you're a fucking moron" look that she does so well.

It took me almost six months to make Laurel change her mind about me. But it was worth it. I suddenly remember a conversation. She was fourteen and I was twenty-one. It was deep into winter and we were sitting inside my house after practice for that day.

"So, who was that boy?" I asked with a mocking grin.

She blushed, but still smiled at me. "No one."

I shook my head. "He got you flowers. He's not a 'no one.'"

"It's not like I _like_ him," she says with an aghast expression. "He's all . . . I don't know. Stupid?"

"So he's mentally challenged?" I say with a laugh. "How sad."

"I didn't mean it like that!" she said, blushing again. "He's very immature. That flower stunt he pulled was the most mature thing I've ever seen him do."

"He's only fifteen. How mature do you expect him to be?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"How mature do you want the person to be?" I ask, slightly curious.

"I guess I've had it in my mind that everyone should be as mature as you are," Laurel said slowly. "So I guess someone as mature as you."

"Not a lot of people are mature as _I_ am," I tell her with a cocky grin. "It might take you a while to find someone like that."

"I'm patient," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye. I don't think she's ever really dated anyone. She was determined to wait for that "special someone". She found him, of course, but he died. So that's not going to really work out. I'm still reeling over the fact that she would be stupid enough to even allow herself to fall in love. And with someone like-

I trip. I'm not the most graceful person, and this happens a lot, but I'm still embarrassed as I climb up off the ground. Laurel stares at me, trying not to smile, but she does anyway. She laughs and I smile at her. This is what I wanted, her to actually look like she wants to live for once. I'd fall millions of times, just to see this once.

She quickly goes back to the hostile bitch I really can't help but hate. "How about you learn to walk and then I'll come to the market with you, 'kay?" She turns to leave and I quickly grab her shoulder. She flinches and I let my arm drop.

She _flinched_? Like I was going to hurt her? I stare at her and she gives me the saddest look you will ever see before running away.

I let her go, knowing she can't run forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fighting To Forget**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**October  
**_

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)**  
**_

I pull the jacket around me tightly as I nervously open the front door. I take in a breath of the fresh air lovingly knowing if I'm to keep up this charade I won't be able to taste it for four more months, _at least_.

I slowly creep down the sidewalk, hoping that no one will be up at this time of night. I'm almost out of Victor's Village when I hear the surprised uttering of my name. Why does it have to be _him_, of all people? I just want to be able to walk down my street without his existence killing me.

I don't turn. "Birch."

"What are you doing out here?" he questions. "It's 2 AM."

"I could ask you the same question," I counter. "Have a good night, Birch."

"...You too." I walk quickly away, surprised that the terror of him finding out drowns out the agony of seeing him. That's the first time we've spoken since the catastrophe at the train station four months ago.

I pull out the piece of paper and study the directions, trying to find my way without getting lost. I glance around after ten minutes of walking, trying to find the house with blue shutters. After a few seconds of wondering around the general vicinity, I see the obnoxious things. I snort. Oh, Amber . . .

She's going to be so pissed off when I wake her. Amber complains about me showing up in the late hours of the night because "she has an important job." But, seriously, it can't be _that_ important.

I knock on the door loudly, surely waking the light sleeper. A few seconds later a too-put-together-to-have-been-sleeping Amber opens the door with a welcoming smile.

"Why, hello, Hazel." She glances outside. "Seems a little late for a visit."

I laugh sarcastically. "I couldn't keep myself away, _darling_."

"You're in luck," Amber smiles. "I was expecting you."

"I didn't wake you then?" I ask.

"No, I was working on an intriguing case of mine," Amber informs, ushering me inside. "I'm a bit stumped, truth be told, would you mind me speaking of it?"

"You work too much and yes." I walk into the kitchen and open her refrigerator. "Can you make me something to eat? I'm starving."

"Do you _ever_ eat at your own house?" Amber grumbles despite pulling out ingredients.

"People can _see_ it now, you know," I snap. "So I can't go buy groceries anymore and those damn kids I pay to are unreliable as fuck."

"_You're not eating_?" Amber exclaims, aghast. "That is extremely detrimental to your health, not to mention the-."

I cut her off. "I'm eating, Amber, the food just doesn't feel me up as much as it used to."

"Are you taking those vitamins I supplied you with, at the very least?" Amber sighs.

I look away sheepishly, but when confronted with her glare I exclaim, "They're huge!"

She abandons the creation of my late-night snack to massage her temples at my apparently frustrating behavior. Amber finally lets out a sigh and gives me a strained smile. "I'll buy your groceries from now on."

"Thank you. . ." I reply slowly.

"So," Amber begins, starting again on what looks to be a sandwich. "Do you have any idea when you'll tell Birch about all of this?"

I glare. "I'm _not_ telling Birch."

She sighs- which she says is her only way to deal with me, sigh and move on. "He's your best friend, Hazel."

"I haven't spoken to him for four months," I spit at her bitterly. "Well, unless you count thirty minutes ago."

Amber sets the sandwich in front of me and I eat it ravenously. When I'm finished, she leans in to murmur, "You spoke to him?"

Of fucking course Amber would be interested by this. Damn, she's such a _girl_.

"He was outside when I left to come here and, naturally, he asked me what I was doing," I tell her with as much nonchalance as I can muster. I don't like talking about Birch. I think about him a lot, considering I'm cooped up in my house all day with nothing to do but hurt myself emotionally, but talking about him is different in too many ways to count.

"He was outside too?" Amber grins. "They must have had a fight."

"But he would-." I stop myself from saying he would have came to talk to me about it. "_Damn_ it."

Her eyes widen. "Do you feel nauseous? I thought you said it stopped."

"No, I do not feel nauseous," I snap, standing up. "I'm gonna go. I've kept you from sleeping- oh I'm sorry, I thought you were a normal person for a second- I kept you from your _work_. Good night."

"Hazel, before you go," Amber starts gently. "You could also tell _him_."

"Him" is Amber's affectionate nickname for Clubb. I've never told her who he was and objected to her original term for him. To be honest, I haven't thought of him much. Well, initially when I found out, I thought about him a good bit, mostly lamenting over being so stupid as to sleep with him. After a week or two, I just realized there's nothing I can do about it so I stopped pouting _and_ thinking.

"He doesn't want to know, trust me," I say, chuckling under my breath. Damn straight Clubb doesn't want to know. He's probably already forgotten about our little week together.

When I'm confronted with the ten minute walk back to my house, I groan. My back and feet are going to literally _kill_ me in the morning.

Pregnancy is _such_ a bitch.

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

Frieze rolls his eyes, doing his best to act like he doesn't care. "It was a mistake, I know that. You don't have to remind me every time we see each other."

I purse my lips and avoid his gaze. "Well I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't want you to think anything could ever happen with us! I didn't want to lead you on."

Frieze laughs at that. "Lead me on? The first thing you said to me after getting back from the Capitol was that it couldn't happen. All you're doing it now is bringing it up every five minutes which is starting to grate on me."

I let out a breath. "Okay, I got it. I'm sorry for bringing it up every five minutes."

Frieze smiles, though it looks positively painful. "Great."

"So how-." I pause for a long moment, turning away awkwardly to look through his book shelf. "The Justice Building staff would probably appreciate it if you brought these books back."

"They probably have ten more copies of each lying around somewhere," he snaps. "But, sure, if you want to return them, be my guest."

Frieze is such an _ass_ sometimes. I bite my lip to keep from saying something I don't mean. I scoop up the books and turn to look back at him. He has this slightly angry, mostly amused expression on his face. I glare at him. "I guess I will."

He groans. "Well aren't you accommodating?"

"Bastard," I mutter.

He raises his eyebrows. "Is that anger I see?"

"I'm leaving." I grit out. "You're not much help these days, anyway. I hope the liquor will keep you warm at night."

He opens his mouth, most likely intending to insult me, but it closes a second later. I turn, an apology on my lips, but he cuts me off. "You meant it, you know you did. So don't _fucking_ apologize."

He's right. I did mean it. Frieze is one of the few people that easily get me worked up. I don't know what it is about him.

Maybe it's the hair.

"I did mean it," I admit. "But I want to apologize for saying it anyway. It was rude and judgmental, and for Panem's sake, I'm sorry, okay?"

He doesn't look at me. "I'm not perfect."

I smile. "That I know. _Well_."

He snorts. "You're not perfect either, you know."

"That I also know pretty well," I reply. "I make mistakes. I get angry, I forget to wash the dishes sometimes, I say rude things, I potentially break up couples-."

Aw shit.

"...Wait, what?" Frieze asks, his interest piqued. "Breaking up couples? Potentially, anyway?"

"I, um, well, you know how it is sometimes," I stutter. "People say things they don't mean all the time. I couldn't think of anything else and I remembered that I broke up Spangle and Felt in the second grade and just said it. By accident."

Frieze stares at me for a second before grinning. "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

I sigh and move to the couch, sitting heavily. "Damn it."

Frieze sits across from me in his favorite green chair. The green brings out the red in his hair quite nicely. "Explain, please."

"Finch kissed me, before I left," I blurt. "I told him it wasn't going to happen but what if Linsey finds out? You know how she is, I'm sure Finch could convince her of . . . a lot of things."

"I always thought Finch was a dick, but seriously?" Frieze grits out, eyes flashing with anger. "I didn't think he'd do something like that to Linsey."

"You act like you know him..?" I question.

"Despite what you may think, I do have a functioning social life," Frieze responds dryly. "I've spoken to him a few times. He's always been a thinly-veiled asshole, is what I'm saying."

"And you know Linsey too?"

"Everyone knows Linsey," Frieze answers, grinning. "She's nice, but not the sharpest tool in the shed."

I let out a laugh. I love her, but that's an understatement. "I'm just worried that Linsey's going to get hurt or this is somehow going to get turned back on me when I didn't do _anything_ wrong."

Frieze considers this for a second, before his face freezes. "You said couples. With an 's.' Meaning more than one couple."

I stare back at him for a second, before groaning. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did," he replies. "Again, explain."

"Well, while I was in the Capitol-."

"You fucked a Capitolite," Frieze interrupts, horrorstruck. "_Seriously_?"

I actually let out a laugh at the outrageous suggestion. "C'mon Frieze, we might not be _that_ close, but I thought you'd expect more of me."

Frieze apologizes, and the truth gets caught in my throat. I can't tell him. I'm physically unable, apparently. I let out a whisper, "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it."

Frieze stares at his hands, which twist together nervously. "Do you keep in touch?"

I spare a moment to think of the six unopened letters hid under all my socks. I know if I read them, I'll want to reply, and if I reply all those feelings are going to rush back to me. I close my eyes. "No."

"I don't want to say 'good,' because it might offend you, but . . ." A hint of a smile plays across his lips. "Good."

I can feel a little smile on my face. "I guess you can categorize it as that."

He doesn't reply and I stand. "Well I'm going to go. It was nice . . . talking to you, surprisingly enough."

He chuckles. "Goodnight. Sleep well, dear."

I roll my eyes before exiting the house. I walk across the street and unlock my own door, before entering the house. I find my mother and father watching television together, cuddled on the couch, in the living room. They laugh at the absurdity of the show, making jokes.

Feeling wistful, I make my way upstairs.

* * *

_Laurel Farley (D11)_

Locust and I made a compromise that I would sit on the couch instead of laying in bed all day. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Aurora stares at me from a chair in the corner of the room. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Fan-_fucking_-tastic," I mutter under my breath. "Having everyone you love die in the same week is just like going to the spa for a few days."

Aurora purses her lips. "This is why I can't deal with you."

"Then don't deal!" I exclaim. "Just leave me alone for _once_. I'm not crazy, I'm not going to kill myself while you're gone, so just fucking leave!"

"Locust doesn't like it when you're alone all day," Aurora murmurs, ignoring my outburst. "So unless you want me to get him . . ."

The idea is tempting. Locust's company is much more enjoyable, he can actually keep up a conversation without making me want to tear my hair out. But he's also always pushing me to go places and do more, and I just want to sit here.

What they all don't understand is it's not that I don't want to go outside. It's the idea of going outside and meeting new people and becoming friends with those people and doing something that pisses off the Capitol which leads to their death.

I don't want to cause anymore death. I don't want to literally or theoretically be holding that knife. "He might have something important going on."

Aurora laughs for a second. "I seriously doubt that. He doesn't go out much anymore."

I stare for a second, anger quickly overtaking shock. "I'm going to kill the hypocrite the next time I see him."

Aurora only smiles and examines herself in the mirror across the room. Aurora could be attractive, if she didn't have that huge scar, but she's all right I guess. She would have more curves than me, if I lived six lifetimes and combined them all together.

Locust staying home a lot pops back into my head. It's funny because I remember him being pretty social before I went to the Capitol. "Why doesn't Locust go out anymore?"

Aurora's smile fades. "I think he's too worried about you to do much, actually."

I blink a few times, trying to process this. Why would he do that? He's my best friend in the whole world, I don't think that will ever change, but why would he even consider stopping everything just for me?

Would I do it for him?

I only consider it for a second.

Of course I would.

"I'd do it for him," I tell her, watching her expression closely. Her face was already blank to begin with, but she seems to be doing her best to keep a poker face. It's like a light goes on in my head- despite that being the biggest cliche ever- she has a crush on Locust. I try to picture it for a second, but quickly discard the image. Locust wouldn't ever be able to love a person like Aurora. The woman's got another thing coming.

Might as well do my best to annoy her. "Aw, you like him, don't you?"

Sadness washes across her face, "No."

"Oh, please," I scoff. "You're head-over-heels for _Locust_."

Aurora doesn't respond, so I just grin back at her. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree. Despite what you may have deluded yourself into believing, Locust won't ever give you a chance, honey."

Aurora's face pales. "Shut up."

"I'm just trying to prepare you for rejection," I reply simply, shrugging. "Locust would probably rather be single for the _rest of his life_ than be with you."

I know I'm laying it on a little thick, but seriously, when is this chick going to get pissed and leave to cry into her pillow or something equally pathetic? Ugh. "I might take a little stroll over to Locust's and see how he's doing lately. Drop a few hints for you, put in a good word. It probably won't help, though, to be honest."

Aurora glares. "Don't you dare, Laurel. You're a huge bitch and I know you hate me, but please. _Don't_."

I stand up and my knees pop audibly. Ew. "I think I'm going to go, actually. I promise I won't say anything to him, okay? Shouldn't you be encouraging this, me going places?"

Aura stands up, and pushes me against the wall roughly. A jolt of pain runs through me, but I refuse to let out a noise of pain. Her arm is across my throat and I make sure not to swallow. It really doesn't matter who it is. If someone has you pushed against a wall, you're going to be a little nervous. "You say a fucking word . . ."

I raise an eyebrow at her violent reaction and smirk. "Despite that I haven't exercised in four months, I could kill you easily if I wanted to. So, if I was you, I'd let me go."

She doesn't back down, surprisingly, and I take a moment to admire her for that. In the face of certain defeat, she's not going to run away. Maybe that's how a shrimp like her was able to win the Hunger Games, in the first place.

The admiration is gone after a second because, really, I can already tell this will be _too_ easy. I knee her in the crotch and she jumps away. It might hurt men more, but it's pretty effective on women too.

I shove her to the ground, and she lands on her elbow awkwardly, crying out.

I crouch beside her.

"Don't fucking try me again, bitch," I hiss before stalking out of the front door.


End file.
